


Reunion at Dusk

by DrHu



Series: A New World [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Is there such a thing as too much foreplay, LIGHT body worship, Marriage Proposal, NSFW, Post-Canon, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrHu/pseuds/DrHu
Summary: Claude's blazing return to Fodlan heralds a joyful reunion between the freshly crowned king and queen, yet there are still matters to discuss for the new couple as they step into this uncharted path in both their personal and public lives.A little dose of courage can go a long way...(An elaboration upon Claude and Byleth's paired ending)
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: A New World [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771909
Comments: 10
Kudos: 160





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you look at something you've written and think, "What have I done?" 
> 
> Then you think to yourself, "When in hell, keep going." 
> 
> Please note that part 1 is the wholly fluff part of the equation, and this short story as a whole can still be understood without the second part. But let's be honest here: most of you are here for one reason, so who am I to think anyone would only read one half of this?

She’s never been more breathless in her life.

Fear is not something Byleth is familiar with. It was certainly not something she felt before she first met Sothis. And even after, she could count on her fingers the number of times she’d felt those chills.

This would count as one of those times. But it’s not the only reason she’s breathless.

It doesn’t matter that there are still skirmishes occurring outside Derdriu. It doesn’t matter that she should technically still be in combat. All Byleth wants in this moment is to see him.

She wheels a corner and emerges out onto one of the few battlements that line the outer edges of the Aquatic Capital. The beautiful backdrop of the sky is at odds with the cries of battle off in the distance; it’s an airbrushed smear of orange and indigo, and she can see the faint fluttering streaks of wyverns against it.

Just as she hoped, a small entourage is about to cross underneath her. Even in the low light, she can already see him: gilded in gold silks, hair more haphazardly swept back than she’d last seen him, Claude leads the group, calling out orders to the various people with him before they dart away. If her heart could beat, she’s sure it would be racing.

“Claude!”

He snaps to attention, and their eyes lock when he finally finds her. After going so long without her at his side, Claude’s heart sings, and he grins up at her. She’s as beautiful as she ever was in her battle attire - he had missed that bright spray of mint, that almost unearthly divine aura she carries herself with. His memories betrayed him; she was always going to be far more dazzling in person than any image his mind could conjure.

Claude ignores the low chuckles and whistles coming behind him as he runs up beneath her. For a moment, the sound of battle falls away for the both of them, and they can only stare at each other, beaming.

“There you are. Here I was, thinking you were avoiding me on purpose. Did you miss me?” he teases.

It’s been months since Byleth had last heard the sound of his voice, and she’s a little surprised at the waves of joy that wash over her. She really missed him.

Without giving him a proper answer, she hoists a leg over the edge of the battlements. Claude’s grin slowly falls as he realizes what she’s about to do. His eyes widen with mild panic as he steps closer, knowing that he’s helpless against the inevitable.

“W-wait, Byleth, think for a moment before you do this--”

“No!”

Without a second thought, she throws herself over the edge. With a yelp, Claude lunges forward, arms open as she falls. She tumbles into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as the momentum makes him stumble. He holds on tight as he recovers, spinning her around in circles before coming to a stop. Byleth buries her face in his neck and breathes him in; he smells of the mountains, of smokiness and spices she can’t quite place. It’s _Claude_ , undeniably and unquestionably Claude.

Even when she’s safely on the ground, he holds her fast. He buries his face in her hair for a moment before planting a quick kiss on the top of her head. His heart is beating a thousand times a minute, faster than any rush from battle could give him.

“You could have used the stairs. They were right there,” he chuckles.

“Mmm,” was all she said back, muffled into his shoulder.

Before either of them can say anything else, a familiar voice booms from Claude’s little entourage, “This is heartwarming and all, but perhaps you two would like to remember that we’re in the middle of a _battlefield?_ ”

Claude glares at Nader, refusing to let her go even with his outburst. Byleth peeks over at him, and despite the interruption she can’t help but smile at the Almyran general. He winks and returns it.

“Good to see you again too, Professor.”

More snickers ring through, and with a sigh Claude releases Byleth from his embrace. But his eyes are tender when he looks at her.

“Just like old times, eh, Teach?”

She raises an eyebrow at the old nickname, but the familiarity of it brings a wash of comfort over her. Claude feels like home, and she’s glad that despite their time apart, nothing in their hearts has changed.

“I’m ready. Thank you, by the way. For coming to help.”

He smiles. “We’ll talk more once this is over. For now… Let’s get these guys taken care of. I’ve got good memories of Derdriu - I’d hate to see them destroy more of it!”

* * *

Byleth sighs. At last, the fighting has come to an end.

The Almyran reinforcements were the greatest boon she could have asked for; the rebellion was quelled swiftly enough that damage to the city was minimal, and there were very few casualties on their own side. She made sure no mercy was shown to the Agarthans within the opposing army. The rest were imprisoned until further notice.

She walks among the prisoners gathered at the edge of the city. Most of them have gaunt and terrified looks on their faces; from what she was told, many of the former Imperial troops had been magically coerced by the Agarthans to participate in the revolt. She scrutinizes each of them; as innocent as many of them are, she wonders which were the guilty parties who managed to rope the rest of them into their fruitless uprising.

She stops before one that catches her eye: a mage, disheveled and bloody, but what separates her from the rest is the look of pure contempt and defiance. The fire in her gaze makes it clear she is still an ardent supporter of the fallen Empire.

“What are you staring at, you filthy usurper?” she hisses.

The nearby guards tense, preparing for the worst. Byleth doesn’t react beyond acknowledging her presence. She commits the mage’s face to memory and is about to move on before the prisoner spits at her feet.

“You walk as if you have earned your right to rule when you have only stolen the throne and no one else is suited!” she hisses.

At this, Byleth finally turns and faces her. “The war is over,” she says in a low voice. “You have everything to lose with your resistance, and nothing to gain. If you’re so unhappy with me, there are other countries you can find a home in. You should stop while you still have your life.”

The mage grits her teeth, and Byleth wonders if she’s said the wrong thing. With a cry, her bindings fall away, immediately alarming her captors. Byleth, being the closest, quickly unsheathes her sword as the prisoner raises her hands.

“Long live the Empire! Justice for Her Majesty Edelgard!”

And with a flash of light, she’s gone. The other guards rush to the queen’s side as they begin calling out orders. She clicks her tongue as she puts away the Sword of the Creator, waving away the soldiers.

“Put out a search, but no need to use too many resources. With a spell like that, I have a feeling we won’t find her,” she orders.

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

She sighs after they scatter. “That could have gone better,” she mutters to herself. Byleth takes a critical look at the rest of the prisoners who shrink at her scrutinizing gaze.

“Anyone else have something to say?”

She’s met with only fearful silence. Some of the former Imperials shake their head, their eyes downcast.

In an effort to appease them, she announces, “Though you have pointed your swords at us, please know that your execution is the last thing I want. While I cannot guarantee there will not be any repercussions, I do not wish to needlessly shed blood.”

She isn’t sure if they’re convinced. After making sure they would be properly looked after, she leaves and marches back to the former Riegan estate.

The moon is high in the sky by the time she returns, and the estate--now the official royal abode of the newly united Fodlan--is still buzzing with activity. Soldiers salute her as she enters, and she’s immediately bombarded with various reports. Even though she’s already lived through a war, Byleth could feel a post-battle headache setting in. She sets aside the intense desire to fall face first into her bed as she navigates through the villa’s halls, keeping her eye out for one person in particular.

It’s when she’s in the middle of a conversation with Judith does her query finally appear. The latter sees him first; one eyebrow quirks upward as a knowing smile plays at the edge of her lips.

“Ah, but enough of my prattle. The battle is over and the cleanup shouldn’t be too difficult. I should leave you to your rest, Your Majesty,” Judith says.

“I think that would be nice,” a voice replies from behind them. A hand gently clasps Byleth’s shoulder, and she glances up to see Claude looming next to her. Judith smirks, giving her farewells before giving a not-so-subtle wink. To whom, Byleth wonders, she doesn’t know.

The two turn towards each other, and for some reason she forgets all the things she’s wanted to say for the past six months. Without the din of battle, she can finally take a better look at him. Claude’s eyes are tired around the edges, and his beard has grown in the months he’s been gone. The first time she reunited with him, five years after the first battle of Garreg Mach, he’d grown into a leader. Now, after a war and a coronation, it feels like he’s truly grown into a king, albeit a new one.

And yet…

Wordlessly she reaches up and holds his face, brushing her thumbs over those cheekbones she’d always longed to touch. His green eyes are as warm as a spring breeze, and there’s a familiar upwards tug to his lips that leaves a welcome shiver down her back. Claude stares back at her, his eyes searching for perhaps the same answers as she.

Maybe it’s the post-battle exhaustion, maybe it’s the remaining adrenaline of having lived through what seemed like a lost fight, but Byleth can’t stop herself as she leans in and gently presses her lips to his. Claude’s mouth parts readily, and his body gives in willingly as she folds herself against him. He twines his arms around her, pressing her closer and closer as if to make up for the physical distance between them during the past couple months. She wants to hold back, to keep the dam from breaking down so she can savor this moment just a little more. Their lips somehow fit so easily together, and Claude breathes her in, as if a kiss isn’t enough, as if he will always long for more.

They hear a faint cough to the side, and the two reluctantly return to reality. Claude chuckles quietly upon seeing the absolute look of murder his partner is aiming towards the guard who interrupted them. He kisses her forehead before gently tugging her in another direction.

“Come on. Let’s go talk somewhere else.”

She goes with him, but not before giving another sharp glance in the direction of the poor soldier. Claude walks through his old residence with ease, his hand tight around Byleth’s as he takes them both into a small, inconspicuous study.

“This was one of my favorite places in the estate,” he reminisces. “When my grandfather was still alive, I’d squirrel away here all the time when I wanted to avoid a lecture.”

Byleth snorts. That sounds so much like him. “What about after he passed?”

“I still liked it. It’s in a quieter part of the building, so I’d still come here whenever I needed some time on my own. And I always did love the view.”

On the other side of the room, Claude opens a pair of glass doors leading to a small alcove. Well furnished, it has several large windows that overlook the Aquatic Capital. Compared to what it was earlier in the day, Derdriu looks relatively at peace. He lights a lamp, washing the room in a warm orange glow that complements the moonlit backdrop. The pair simultaneously sigh as they sink into the cushions of a loveseat, their long awaited moment of rest finally bequeathed upon them.

“It doesn’t feel like much as changed since I left,” Claude ponders.

Byleth snorts again. “Maybe on the surface. But just wait until the dust settles after this skirmish. Then you’ll see what you’ve missed in the last couple months.” She pauses, thinking about what she just said. “That is, of course, assuming that you will be staying a bit.”

Silence settles over them, and they can feel the questions building up in that space. Claude closes his eyes a brief moment, knowing that this is a talk that has been long overdue. He turns and focuses on Byleth, letting her know that she has his full attention.

“I will, in fact. I’m sending Nader back with the rest of the troops but… I’ll be staying behind for the time being.”

“What about… What about your obligations? In Almyra, I mean.”

She’s not sure how to be upfront about it, and Claude at once begins to regret his past secretiveness. The fact that he is the king of a neighboring country hangs over them, and he can tell she’s still struggling to come to terms with it. His Almyran heritage had been an open secret between them since the war; the truth of his royal heritage, far less so. He curses his past self: why in the world did he think breaking the news to her in a letter of all things would be the right way to go about it?

Apologetic, Claude takes her hand, the one that bears the ring he gave her those long months ago. He gently places a kiss, and despite the tension in the room, he’s admittedly delighted that she’s wearing it.

“I had a talk with my father. He’ll be taking on my duties while I’m here, and I should be receiving messages every now and then to stay updated. If anything urgent comes up, I’ll return immediately but… Well, it’s not like it’ll be that different from before, for the time being.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds, processing the information before asking, “You were only gone for six months. You said you needed to make changes; did you actually accomplish anything in such a short time?”

“I did. Not a lot, but a start. And…”

“And?”

He presses her hand to his lips, closing his eyes as he swallows his pride, his old habits. “I knew I was needed here. And… I missed you. I thought about you every day I was there. I couldn’t wait until I could see you again.” Claude couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe that’s why my old man let me off easy. He could probably tell how desperate I was.”

Byleth’s face softens, and she gives him a kiss on the cheek before pressing their foreheads together. “I missed you too,” she says. Then she chuckles, “You should thank your father for me, for being so lenient and letting me have you to myself for a bit.”

“You should thank him yourself. You’ll meet him eventually, I’m sure.”

It’s then that a thought occurs to Claude, a spontaneous, almost reckless idea. He shouldn’t, a part of him argued. The timing isn't right.

But when would the timing be right? Perhaps if he didn’t take the chance now, he would never be able to muster the courage ever again. Claude pushes away his doubts, riding the rush of adrenaline that once again pulses through him that day. For the first time in his life, he has no plan, no scheme. It’s just him, and nothing has felt scarier and more exhilarating.

Seeing the glint in his eyes, Byleth regards him with suspicion. “Claude? What are you thinking about?”

He clasps her hand with both of his, looking at the beautiful woman who trusted him enough in the end to gift him with her heart. “Speaking of meeting him… There’s an easy enough way to do that.”

“Oh? Are you asking me to go back to Almyra with you?”

“Absolutely. I told you before, I wanted to show you my hometown. I want you to meet my parents, to see all the amazing things about Almyra. I’d like to take you back, Byleth, not just as an old teacher, a friend, or a neighboring sovereign. I’d like to take you back… as my wife.”

If her heart could skip a beat, it would have. “I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

He has to focus to keep his hands from trembling. The words tumble out, and he tries his best to put his heart into each and every one of them. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you since the day you started teaching at the monastery. You’ve given me your time, your wisdom, your kindness… And somehow, you’ve given me the world too. You’ve walked side by side with me from the very beginning, even when I didn’t know it. Now, I’m asking for one last thing.

“Byleth, my shooting star, my night sky… I love you with everything I am. And I promise to give you everything I have: my life, my heart, my soul. Will you marry me?”

When is the last time she’d seen him this vulnerable? She thinks back to their days at the academy, and it’s almost astonishing to see how far he’s come. Under the silver moon, the ring he’d given to her shimmers, a reminder of his promise to return, of all the promises they’ve made and the ones to be had.

And there’s another part of her, a smaller one, one that thinks about her duties as queen. As one who stands side by side with a king who has known his path since birth. Can she really stand tall with him? Is she worthy enough?

_Marriage… With Claude, king of Almyra..._

“I love you, Claude… But this time, I’m going to have to say no.”

“Oh, Byleth, that’s--wait, what?”

If it hadn’t been such a tender moment, she may have laughed at his expression. She’s almost proud of herself; it’s quite a feat to render the former Duke Riegan speechless. Before he can jump to any conclusions, she places a finger on his lips and explains herself.

“Claude, I don’t ever want you to think I don’t love you so much it almost hurts. But… We’ve spent most of our time together either in a classroom or fighting a war. And then you fly off to the other side of Fodlan’s Throat, and only until _three months ago_ was I finally made aware that this whole time you were actually the _crown prince_ of a neighboring nation!”

There it is, the consequences of his past actions coming to bite him in the ass. Claude winces as she continues.

“You know just about everything important about me, Claude. But there’s this whole other world you’re a part of that I know almost nothing about, and I want to. So… So if you really want me to marry you then--then you’d better court me properly first!”

Her cheeks turn pink at the last statement, and she immediately shuts her mouth, embarrassed. For several seconds Claude can only gape at her, and it’s a while before the gears in his head begin turning again. But as he processes her words, a slow grin begins to form.

“You’re not saying no.”

“Not--not permanently. I do want to be with you, Claude, just… Not right now, like this. We have time now.”

He’s grinning full stop now, and somehow she finds it hard to read him. He holds her face and kisses her forehead, laughing a little.

“So long as I give some time to court you, you’ll be my wife? That’s your condition?”

She’s not sure she likes his tone. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

Claude’s eyes are alight with glee. “Alright then, my dear. If the queen would like to be wooed, then a wooing she shall have.” He lets out a hearty chuckle. “Just be careful you don’t fall in love with me all over again as this goes.”

She laughs with him, her cheeks growing warmer. “Oh, that won’t be very hard.”

“You and your flattery again.”

He pulls her into an embrace, tucking her head under his chin. Being so close to his chest, Byleth can feel the faint thudding of his heartbeat; it sounds faster than usual. The tension is gone, and in that moment her doubt is forgotten.

“You’re...not mad?”

“No. How could I? Honestly I deserved that,” he snickers. “Let’s just keep this between ourselves for now though, alright? I really don’t want to hear all the jokes about my spectacular rejection.”

Byleth chuckles. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep it to myself… For now.”

Claude hums; he seems to be enjoying the prospect of courtship. She closes her eyes and leans into him, following the sound of his heart like a lullaby. She can’t help but smile at the thought of the future and what surprises it might bring. For now, they’re together, home at last.


	2. Part 2

With the uprising quelled, the city of Derdriu at last tucks in for the night. The heavy cacophony of soldiers’ footfall has died away as the troops receive their well deserved rest. Mothers can finally put their children safely to bed; lovers breathe a sigh of relief as they fall asleep, knowing their partners survived the day.

Claude, freshly bathed and linened, emerges into an empty hallway within the royal villa. He wonders if his six month return to Almyra has softened him; he feels the exhaustion settle within his bones in a way he isn’t sure he’d felt during the war. 

He’d taken care of Nader and the rest of the Almyran troops he’d brought, and they would be returning within the week. After the whirlwind that was his return to his homeland and his coronation, the thought of spending quality time with Byleth in peacetime was a very welcome one. 

In the frenzy of the day’s events, it occurs to him that he’d forgotten to secure his own lodgings for his stay in Derdriu. Well, if worst comes to worst, this was his old home; he could always curl up in some random spare bedroom for the evening. 

Despite his fatigue, he decides to take a walk around the former Riegan estate. Claude expertly avoids the guards patrolling the building, reminiscing about his time spent here in the past. His early time spent with his grandfather almost felt like a different life, unmarred by the continental war that would likely be one of the most defining moments of his life. 

Deep in thought, he at first doesn’t notice the soft footsteps coming towards him. Byleth, clad in her sleepwear, spots Claude staring contemplatively at the various pictures hanging on the walls. 

“Claude?” she calls out. 

He snaps to attention, an automatic smile breaking out at the voice of his loved one. She quietly strides up to his side and gives him a curious look. 

“Not turning in yet? You must be tired.” 

“What can I say? I’m sentimental.” His eyes give another sweep over the tapestries and portraits. Even though it’s been converted to the royal estate for the continent, he’s a little surprised that not much of the interior has changed. “You really didn’t bother taking down all these musty old paintings, huh?” 

Byleth shrugs. “I wouldn’t know what to do with all of it. I thought maybe I could ask you, since it’s technically _your_ family heritage.” 

“Well, thank you for the consideration. But it’s your home now. You can do whatever you please.” 

“It can still be yours too,” she mutters. Claude raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. 

“For someone who turned down my marriage proposal, you’re sending me quite a lot of mixed signals,” he laughs. She flushes in response. 

“You’re not going to let me live that down for a while, are you?” 

“Ha! Nope. But don’t worry. I won’t actually ask you again… Not for a while anyway.” Claude reaches out and caresses her cheek, still pink from his teasing. It’s a lovely color against the soft ivory of her skin, and under the low candlelight she looks deliciously warm. What was it about the night that made him so impulsive? There was no one else in the hallway, no one to stop him from pushing her against the wall and kissing her senseless under the vapid gazes of all these dusty old portraits. 

A noticeable, heavier tension settles in the air, and Byleth sees something dark and intense cross through Claude’s eyes. She exhales, trying her best to ignore the goosebumps running up her back. 

“We should get to bed,” she whispers. 

Her words only partially break the spell, and Claude snorts. “Well… I would, my fair lady, except I seem to have forgotten to find a place to stay for the night. So for the time being, I have nowhere to go.” 

The blood rushes through Byleth’s head, and she swears she can feel her pulse thumping in her ears. She doesn’t remember whether she’s felt like this before, the raw desire to throw caution and propriety to the wind. All she knows is that if she doesn’t say something now she may never be brave enough to do so again. 

“Would you...like to stay with me for the night?” 

He freezes. The implication hangs over them, and for a moment she wonders if she’s overstepped. Claude’s hand falls from her cheek as a thousand, indescribable thoughts run through his head. 

“Sure,” he hears himself saying. 

Byleth, fighting the heat creeping up her neck, nods and quickly turns around. “Come on, then.” 

He silently marches behind her, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out where they’re headed. Byleth stops at the door of his old bedroom, giving him a coy glance before slipping inside. 

Claude follows suit, stepping inside the bedroom that was his first home in Fodlan. Like the rest of the estate, very little has changed. Most of the furnishings and decorative items are his, right up to the sheets lining the bed. 

He hesitates, his hand lingering on the doorknob. He takes one look at Byleth, her back turned to him as she lights a few candles, and quietly pulls the door shut. Walking to the center of the room, he waits for her to finish and turn her attention back to him. 

“You really need some help redecorating the place,” he chuckles, in spite of himself. “How much of this is still mine?” 

“Most of it. I moved your clothes though,” she replies absentmindedly. “I didn’t really want to change much.” 

“Why not?” 

She swallows before replying, “It smells like you.” 

The amount of blood he feels rushing south should be forbidden, he thinks. She crosses the room to him, locking their eyes as she places a hand on his chest. He wonders if she can hear how fast his heart is going. 

“I missed you a lot,” she whispers, before closing the gap between them. 

There’s a muted, desperate edge to their lips now as the time and distance spent apart between them come to a head. Byleth is needy, hungrily seeking more as her hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer. Claude’s hands snap to her hips, and they’re practically skin to skin. She sighs, arching into him, allowing him to feel every curve along her front. He shudders as she breaks the kiss, painstakingly drifting down to his chin and along his jawline. Her teeth graze the soft flesh at the top of his neck, and he twists his neck to allow more access. She continues her path down, giving extra attention to those beautiful collarbones she’s always admired. 

Claude laughs, a breathless, unfocused guffaw as he feels her hands snake under his shirt. They brush over his taut abdomen, and her lips pause. 

“What’s so funny?” she murmurs against his skin. 

“You. Me. This whole thing. I don’t know, really.” 

As he speaks, she’s maneuvering them closer to the bed, forcing him to take small steps backwards. He almost feels lightheaded, and the fatigue he felt before has mysteriously vanished, replaced by a giddiness and a burning fire between his legs. When he feels the edge of the bed, Claude sinks into it, pulling Byleth into a straddle across his lap. For a moment they break contact, but they’re still close enough that their noses brush against one another. 

“Stars, but you’re gorgeous,” he can’t help but say. She smiles--genuine compliments from Claude never get old. 

“So are you.” 

She playfully pushes him, and he falls back without resisting. He’s grinning, an excited, genuine smile. Byleth clambers over him, wanting to commit that look to memory. 

“Does the king of Almyra always bend this easily?” she teases. “Surely you can’t give in like this to every lord and lady begging for an audience.” 

“Only if they’re a certain queen from a neighboring country to the west. I make _quite_ a few exceptions if that’s the case.” 

“Hm. Good to know.” 

Byleth kisses his neck again, deeply and more fiercely. Her hips, straddling his own, grind into him, and the combination elicits a guttural moan from Claude’s lips. He bucks as his hands climb up, sliding underneath the baggy tunic she’s wearing. Annoyed, he pushes the fabric up and out of his way, until his hands finally wrap around her breasts. He squeezes, and it briefly interrupts his partner’s ministrations as she squeaks in surprise. His thumb runs circles around her nipples, feeling them grow hard under his touch. He’s been wanting to do this for _ages._

Flustered, she rises away from him, though it’s not enough to pull his hands away from her bosom. She bites her lip, shutting her eyes as he applies more pressure. Not to be outdone, her fingers slide under his own shirt, urgently pushing the fabric out of the way. Claude, however, has none of it.

“Ladies first.” 

She huffs, yet she still shimmies out of the tunic. Claude hums, pleased and appreciative. For a moment, his hands slide away from her breasts and down her waist, over her stomach. They’re coarse and calloused, the hands of a master archer. It’s Byleth’s turn to shudder as he brushes over her scarred skin. His fingers trace over the blemishes, learning the curves of her body. 

He’s interrupted when her fingers slip over his stomach. Chuckling, he pulls the garment off, lazily tossing it into a corner of the room. Immediately his thoughts go blank when Byleth’s lips find his collarbone again, wandering further south until she finds a nipple and takes it into her mouth. Another moan, and his hips shift underneath her again. Her tongue lightly circles around him before giving him a soft nip. She continues kissing her way down, taking extra time to appreciate the short tufts of hair that line his chest and stomach and the airbrushed lines of his toned body. 

Oh, she is definitely going to drive him mad. 

Byleth pauses at his navel, giving his belly button a small kiss before she sits up. Her hands are resting on the waistband around his trousers, and Claude suddenly realizes what she wants to do next. By now, he’s half-erect, his clothes suffocating him with each passing second. And she knows it. 

“Byleth…” he cautions. 

She cocks her head only briefly before her fingers find a weakness within the knot securing his pants. Without hesitation she pulls it loose, and her hands slip beneath the waist. It’s enough to send another line of fire to his crotch, and Claude can only bite his lip as she pulls down the hem. His cock comes free, and the open air feels like ice against his heat. Even in the low light, he’s sure she can see the luminescent blush that’s traveled all the way down his chest. 

He doesn’t have any time to gather his wits before a hand gently wraps around him. It surprises him, enough for his hips to buck, which only generates more friction. Claude can only toss his head back and groan as she slowly slides her hand up and down his length. 

“Good?” she asks. 

_“Fuck,”_ is just about the only thing he can say back. It’s a sweet torture as she has him in her grip. She glides downward, giving his balls a momentary squeeze that sends any sense of coherence far, far away from him. Running her hand up once more, her thumb circles his head, watching as she smears the beads of pre-cum already dripping out around him. Claude’s hands are fisted around the sheets, and his breathing is labored. There’s still an ounce of control there, a thin veneer of level-headedness she is determined to destroy. 

So she stops, calling out, “Claude.” 

Painstakingly he opens his eyes and looks down at her. The look in his partner’s eyes is enough to make his heart skip a beat. The former leader of the Alliance knows an expression of no mercy when he sees one, especially from the famous Ashen Demon. 

Byleth slips off the bed, pushing his legs apart and kneeling between him. The whole time, her grip on his cock does not loosen, and Claude only has a moment to register what she’s about to do before her beautiful pink lips wrap around him. 

He feels he’s had the wind knocked out of him, and Claude releases a ragged sob. Byleth’s mouth engulfs more and more of him, her tongue sliding along his length before she pulls back. Her hand follows her rhythm, continuing to pump the base of his cock as she sucks at his head. Another moan rips its way from Claude’s lips; one hand is thrown up past his head, gripping the edge of the bed so tightly even the mattress squeaks a little. The other finds its way tangled into Byleth’s hair, rising and falling with her as she takes him into her mouth again and again. It’s warm, it’s wet, all the things that when perfectly mixed together destroys what sanity he has left. 

This is the first time he’s felt so helpless in a long time, and Claude readily gives in to the tide. Broken words, reverent words quietly fall from his lips, manic and unstrung. Byleth barely understands a thing; only after a few seconds does she realize he’s speaking in a frantic blend of Almyran and Fodlanese. She smiles, her other hand slipping beneath her underwear. She almost shivers when she finds her clit, and Byleth circles herself to the same rhythm as her mouth. The sounds coming from Claude’s mouth are absolutely delightful, and with each of his moans she presses herself a little harder into her hand. She hums around him as pressure and electricity resonate through her, and Claude can feel it. He squirms, his hips rising off the bed every now and again. Byleth is not gentle when she pushes back, giving him a firm squeeze every time she forces him back down. Claude’s litany deteriorates into whimpers, completely giving himself over to her.

Byleth continues to take her time as she kisses her way down his shaft, her tongue gliding around his balls before she suckles at them. He’s so hard now that it almost feels painful, so hot that she feels he might burn right through her. She seals her lips around his head again, her fingers playing with her wet entrance. But she’s not ready to give up the game yet. 

It is then that Claude feels something dangerous unspool within him. His cock throbs, his desire at its peak. It takes everything he has to claw back to reality, and the hand around the back of Byleth’s head tightens. 

“ _Byleth,_ ” he hisses. 

She doesn’t register it at first, her tongue continuing its dance. Claude has to take another deep breath in an effort to fight what he knows will be a losing battle.

“Byleth, please, _wait._ ” 

She hears him this time, though it confuses her. She pauses, and it’s enough for him to pull away, as much as it kills him to do so. His body screams at the denial, but he pushes it away, gasping for breath. 

“Claude?” 

“Give me… a moment,” he whispers. He’s still rock hard, his cock jutting up against his stomach. Claude pushes himself up, and his body shines with sweat. He regards her with half open eyes, glazed over with denied lust. 

“My love, you can’t… You can’t be so merciless. My--my endurance isn’t what it should be,” he tries to laugh. And even though he’s half out of his mind, he beckons to her. “Come here.” 

She climbs into the bed once more, yelping when Claude tugs her straight into his arms. She’s straddling him again, flush against him. His arms are wrapped around her waist, and Claude sighs when he presses his mouth against her bosom. It’s his moment now, however short it might be, and he indulges as he dips his head and sweeps his tongue over a nipple. 

Heat blooms, and Byleth’s sex aches as he lavishes her breasts. When he sucks at her, she throws her head back, a whine coming through. Claude switches his attention to her other side, distracting her enough for his hand to slide under her slacks around her ass. He follows the curve downwards, dipping a bit deeper before he feels something wet. Claude searches, inching one finger closer and closer until he finds what he’s looking for. He teasingly slides a finger into her, and Byleth cries out, bucking against his hand. 

“There it is,” he whispers. He can practically feel her arousal rolling off of her in waves, andit’s almost enough to knock him down again. Claude doesn’t wait another moment; he kicks off his trousers and with her help pushes the rest of Byleth’s clothes off as well. They move, pushing Claude closer to the head of the bed, his back propped against the multitude of pillows laid there. 

With nothing left between them, she gently tugs at his hair, tilting his head upwards. The queen captures her king in another deep kiss, swallowing his moans. His hand meanders between her legs again, giving her a few good strokes across her dripping pussy. Byleth breaks the kiss with gasp that quickly morphs into a groan. Fascinated, Claude slips two fingers in this time, and she gives a full body shudder. Byleth’s body begs for more friction, thrusting her hips into his hand in an attempt to find it. 

“Claude, please…” 

He feels another rush of heat at the way she breathes his name; he wants nothing more than to hear her say his name like that all night. He removes his fingers--she whines in protest--languidly licking them clean. Byleth bites her lip as she positions herself over his cock. Reaching one hand between them, she takes a hold of him and strokes herself with the tip, causing them both to sigh in unison. Claude settles his hands around her hips, looking at her in anticipation. 

With a gradual, maddening pace, she lowers herself. She’s flushed all the way down her neck, trembling as her core envelops him. Claude winces, and his fingers dig into her flesh. He’s immediately lost in the way her body parts for him, how it yields so easily. Byleth shakily takes a breath as she shifts, her breath hitching when it changes the way his cock sits within her. She rises only to fall again, and it’s just the kind of friction she’s been craving. It’s a sensation she’s felt nowhere else, the way he fills her and just barely hits that particular place within her. 

“Fuck,” she hears him curse again. Claude’s fingers wrap beneath each of her buttocks, helping lift her up before her body swallows him again. 

Byleth bounces up and down along his cock, her hips starting at a slow rate before breaking out into something frantic. She maintains a grip on his shoulders to steady herself, barely uttering a sound as he slides in and out of her. Claude can barely keep his eyes open as he thrusts up to meet her. Every now and again she’ll grind her hips down against him, arching her body into his. He holds her there, his lips finding their way to her neck. Claude kisses and sucks as he feels her core tighten and slide around him, feeling the way her slick is dripping onto him. 

Byleth rides him with reckless abandon, releasing the tension that had been building between them for years. His hands push and guide her, and she arcs her body until she finally finds the perfect angle. Her hand once again finds her way between her legs; her strokes are fierce and uneven as is her breathing. The room fills with the heady scent of sex and the sounds of flesh colliding together again and again, and neither of them want the moment to end. 

But the pressure builds, and even Claude can tell Byleth is near the end of her rope by the way her body is tightening around his. Gritting his teeth, he takes full control, lifting her up and slamming his hips upwards into hers. Byleth squeals, but she has little time to protest when she’s so close. She presses into herself a little harder, rubbing her clit with reckless abandon as they chase her end. 

“Claude…!” 

The world flashes white, and with a cry of Claude’s name she collapses into him, her body shaking as she climaxes. Claude doesn’t stop, thrusting into her at the same pace, and she begs and begs and begs until she has nothing left. When she settles from her high, Byleth relaxes against him; her whole body feels like jelly, and she’s gasping for breath as if she’s just run a marathon. She would have liked to stay like that forever, but Claude’s twitching cock within her is an urgent reminder for one last task. 

With great difficulty she pushes herself away from him. Her lover’s face is tight with restraint; she touches his face and kisses him softly. 

“Come and take what’s yours, Claude.” 

It's all he needs. Claude shifts, reaching behind him and sending some of the pillows scattering onto the floor. Byleth pulls away from him and rolls onto her back. She readily spreads her legs for him as he settles on his knees between them, his hands resting on her hips. He doesn’t give her a warning, nor does she ask for one. 

Claude drives his cock into her, abandoning any notion of being gentle. He utters a low groan as he watches his erection disappear within her, and Claude begins setting a merciless tempo. His hips snap to hers as he dives into her over and over. Still sensitive from her previous high, Byleth bunches the sheets into her fists as she throws her head back and calls out to him again and again. 

His thrusts dance to the chant of his name, and Claude wholeheartedly fucks her to the point where her back comes off the bed. It's messy and primal, her arousal coating the both of them. Beads of sweat drop down Claude's brow and streamline down over his chest. He growls, frustrated, and moves his hands from her hips to under her knees, pushing them up to her shoulders. His cock hits her deeper than ever before, and Byleth _wails._

He wonders if it’s the perfect way they fit with one another, or the delicious faces she’s making, or maybe it’s both. But Claude feels that familiar sensation again, that uncoiling that spells his doom. 

And he chases it. Chases it relentlessly, savagely, deep within Byleth's yielding core. Her wails turn to broken screams as he draws a second orgasm from her, her body quivering from head to toe as his name spills over and over from her lips. 

Her voice falls into a faraway place as his vision flickers, and Claude throws himself from the edge. One, two, three more devastating pushes, and with a gasp he pulls out of her, spilling his seed across the pale skin of her stomach. He grasps his throbbing cock and pumps himself, drawing out as much as he can get away with. 

The two of them slowly fall out of their ecstasy, and the room quiets until they can hear nothing but their ragged breathing. With a tired groan, Claude unceremoniously falls onto his side next to Byleth. He rests his eyes for a moment as he lets his body sink into the familiar soft sheets. 

When he opens them, Byleth is still catching her breath as she weakly cleans herself off. Claude can’t help but be mesmerized by the sight of her chest rising and falling. Feeling his eyes upon her, Byleth turns to him, her cheeks flushed. 

They say nothing to each other at first, simply enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking. But Claude's mouth can never stay still for long. 

"So you won't marry me, but you'll seduce me without a second thought," he laughs. "Aren't there some factions of the Seiros faith that deem carnal actions outside of marriage a sin?"

"I really don't think Sothis could give any less shits about that," Byleth replies with an amused smile. 

"Well, you would know, wouldn't you? Ah, wait, I just realized… Have I just fucked a goddess? Can that actually happen? Does that count as some kind of blasphemy? _The_ ultimate sin? Oh, I have got to debate Seteth over this--"

His partner groans loudly, throwing a nearby pillow into his face. "You're insane. And don't ever mention Seteth while we're in bed together ever again." 

He brushes aside the soft projectile with another laugh. Byleth pushes herself closer to him, and Claude eagerly takes her into his arms. It's easy to tell he's in a good mood. 

"You know, you're welcome to stay here for more than just tonight," she quietly suggests. After their passionate little tryst just now, the shy, unassuming tone of her voice makes Claude snicker. 

"Well now… I could, but what would everyone think, the queen of Fodlan sharing a bed with the king of Almyra?" 

"Hmph. As if you weren't already going to make a big show of the courtship.”

He grins. "You know me so well."

The fatigue at last returns as the night wears on. Claude yawns, and with a wave of Byleth's hand, the lights in the room extinguish, leaving nothing but slivers of moonlight peeking through the curtains. She wiggles out of his grip as she settles in to her side of the bed. Though sleep is closing in, it's hard to focus away from Claude. Even in the dark his eyes still shine so mysteriously; it's downright hypnotizing. They flutter, a sign that he's losing the battle for consciousness. Byleth wears a soft smile as she tenderly brushes a strand of hair from his face. 

"Mmm… Good night, my night sky," he mumbles, just before he succumbs to slumber. 

"Good night, my heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The NSFW portion wasn't a part of the original plan; this was supposed to be a one-shot meant to tie in with something else down the line. 
> 
> But in the end I'm a thirsty goblin and I also needed better reasons to make this a separate work. And now we're here!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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